A Soldier, A Barmaid And A Closet
by JustThatKindOfSpecial
Summary: Where he would normally would be tight lipped about this kind of thing, apparently when it came to his best friend's happiness with Wendy, how was he to refuse the devious barmaid's plan? However, what he didn't count on was the couple playing them. So now he was locked in the closet with a certain seductive model and what were they to do? Mirajane/Lahar. Mendy. Wendy/Mest
1. Chapter 1

**A Solider, A Barmaid And A Closet**

"What can I get you?" the blonde Sorcerer Weekly cover girl beamed at him.

He frowned. He was in every way her enemy yet she still smiled? Something here was very wrong.

It could be the fact that his eyes once glanced down at her cleavage, that his mind entertained for a second on taking the woman to bed before he reminded himself that he despised Fairy Tail and everything they stood for.

Those would be prime examples.

"A green tea," he replied stiffly, trying to not let his mind wander through the more lecherous side that was threatening to come through his iron will.

Mirajane continued to smile, turning to get the kettle on the little fire stove hidden in the corner behind the bar, her moves efficient. As expected for a bar maid.

_And with the curves of one too_, Lahar thought traitorously as his eyes examined her conservative attire of a black dress but still curved over her bountiful derriere.

While he would never act on it, it never hurt to appreciate the beauty of others and his lavender eyes were too caught up with the view, he hadn't realised he had been caught before the soft lilting voice teased him.

"I didn't realise that women interested you, Lahar," her giggle managed to snap him out of whatever spell had caught over him and his mouth tightened as he straightened in his seat, his back going impossibly erect.

"I don't believe my sexuality should be in any of your thoughts, Miss Strauss," he primly pushed his glasses up his nose, his fingers that were clenched over the bar top almost snapping the wood.

Although, as much as it pained him to admit it, an unknown blush that was just hiding just under his skin was threatening to make itself known for getting caught and it was only sheer force of will that stopped it from coming out and decorating his cheeks.

There was a chink as the tea cup and saucer was placed in front of him.

Nodding his thanks, he accepted the delicate tea cup and took a measured sip while the woman in front of him continued to clean mugs with a practiced hand, that small beam never leaving her cute and pinked mouth-

A lump which he never known was there, blocked his airway at the lust filled thoughts and he cleared his throat desperately which had Mirajane raising her head, looking at him expectantly.

Not willing to awkwardly explain, he let one of his questions that had been on the tip of his tongue from the moment he stepped into the Fairy's Guildhall.

"Where are all your…" he trailed off, not wanting to call them criminals to her face, knowing that she probably had more magic skill in one pinkie finger than in his whole body.

And what he asked was true.

He could count on one hand how many there were in the guildhall.

"Members?" she filled in for him in that gentle voice that almost had his shoulders weakening from their ridged T-formation.

Lahar nodded, taking another sip of his hot beverage.

"Well, the Master knew you were coming and thought it best to get multiple missions that could only be 'completed by certain members'," she smiled indulgently as her fingers made the air quotations. "They just also happened to be our most rowdy members too, who would most likely not appreciate a council soldier here."

"If he knew I was coming to inspect him, why isn't he seeing me at the moment?" he queried sharply, his cup mimicking him as it clinked harshly against the saucer.

It may have undercut his tone as it looked as Mirajane was trying to hold back an amused smile and was failing.

"I'm sorry, he is dealing with some of the guild matters and is writing all the formal apologies that you have been lacking," her hand hid her smile futilely and instead, she bent forwards to place the mugs under the bar much to Lahar's inner delight before it got thoroughly scolded.

But even he had to admit, her breasts _were_ aesthetically pleasing to any hot blooded male's eye.

"I see," he said lowly, coupling with his eyes staring sullenly into his green tea.

"But I'm sure in the mean time you can sit here for a drink or two," she tried to say consolingly but just got the turning down of his mouth for her efforts.

Puffing out a breath, Lahar looked around and spotted Doranbolt talking to a grown up Wendy.

He spared a small smile for his friend, the four years leading to the blue haired girl's eighteenth birthday were certainly interesting in the way he dealt with the blunette.

But it was either pitiful or amusing, in that Doranbolt had talked to her perhaps once or twice a year in the years leading up to her eighteen, however, after every interaction the scarred man eradicated any sign that he had talked to her and would begin the whole process all over again.

Lahar shook his head, this was going to be the first year that he was going to force Doranbolt not to do the almost masochist ritual, if it was the last thing he did.

And the young woman hadn't shaped to badly in the end, Lahar thought appraisingly, noting the red cheeks, signalling a childhood crush towards the grown man, which had obviously extended towards adulthood in full force.

"They look good together don't they?" a voice whispered next to him and when he glanced over, he almost wished that he didn't.

Because of the way she was leaning, the bar supported her already enhanced bust to epic proportions, so the first thing he saw was the cleavage and the sheer amount of white skin.

His tongue had come to peek out to lick his lip before he bit it punishingly and turned his eyes back to the couple in the centre of the room.

They almost stood out the most because they were almost the only ones talking.

He saw Juvia Lockster sitting in the corner with the bookworm, her hands sewing a doll that looked suspiciously like Gray Fullbuster.

Lahar frowned.

He hoped it wasn't a voodoo doll because he knew that magic was outlawed in Fiore and he would have to investigate that _on top_ of the master of this formidable guild.

"I would suppose so," he responded lowly, not wanting to draw attention to themselves and how close they were to the other. "However, I doubt that Doranbolt would be able to see past the age gap."

Mirajane hummed, agreeing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lahar saw the way in which the Strauss cupped her chin thoughtfully.

"Well, I don't know about that," she said after a moment, her eyes alighting with a feral delight that almost had him, a hardened soldier recoiling in fear. "I can see even from here he is taking a good look at her chest."

Turning to examine the pair, he found to his shock that Miss Strauss wasn't joking as his best friend was openly staring at the blunette's chest whenever her shy eyes looked away from him.

Which was too frequent for decency's sake!

About to storm over, he was stopped by a gentle hand on his forearm.

He glanced down at the clean and neatly cut fingernails that were circled around one of his forearms then his glare was about to meet that of the Demon's but something stopped him.

Or more, a pair of bright blue eyes did.

His chide was hanging and biting on his tongue but it never came out.

Instead, he shut his eyes and turned back to the signs of love in front of him in the forms of an innocent Wendy and an experienced Doranbolt.

"We could give them a helping hand," Mirajane suggested slyly into his ear and he shivered, hoping that she didn't notice.

"Don't you think he may be a bit too old for her?" he asked dryly, reaching blindly for his cup of green tea, taking a gulp before he could register the heat.

"A forbidden love!" she whispered delightedly, her hands reaching up to clap together, "she _is_ eighteen now though, she can do whatever she wishes and that includes, the daring and dark Doranbolt."

She finished evilly, her little white teeth coming to poke and bit into the fleshy pink lower lip that was slowly capturing his attention more than anything she was ever saying.

They were silently regarding the other, him figuring out a way to maybe stop this insane mess that was running through his head over one woman and her trying all the possible outcomes of Doranbolt's and Wendy' coupling.

Then it hit him.

The way to be out of her company quicker would be to do what the demoness wanted. And swiftly.

"What did you have in mind?" he sighed, resting his forehead in a hand.

…o0o…

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" there was a crooked smile.

The response was a girlish giggle coupled with some red cheeks.

"Give her a taste of her own medicine?"

"Why yes Wendy Marvel, I think that is just what the doctor ordered."

A hand was taken, which was seen by a pair of meddling eyes and documented for their next move.

"You remember the plan?"

A small nod with a breathless gasp as a hand cradled her cheek.

"Then, are you ready?" his breath of mint just ghosting over her sensitive skin.

Another nod with another gasp was swiftly swallowed by a masculine pair of chapped lips.

…o0o…

Mirajane and Lahar looked on in interest, but the bar maid couldn't help but feel the wave of envy at the ease in which Wendy and Doranbolt fell into the kiss.

She looked wistfully to her left where the council soldier who was previously sat straight, now leaned forward intensely, his eyes refusing to leave the scene that was occurring in front of them.

How ironic, that the one man who seemed to have no sexual appetite and had no interest in her whatsoever, was the one that Mirajane _had_ to take an interest in.

It was almost like a breath of fresh air when he wouldn't respond immediately, keeping her on her toes.

His dark, dark hair just almost had her drooling and with the tight mouth that just oozed disapproval, and deep down had Mirajane thinking in all the naughty ways in which she could get that look again.

A blush dusted her cheeks and bringing up a cool hand, the white haired woman prayed that the detached man wouldn't notice it.

"So how are we going to move them to the broom cupboard?" he asked, trying to seem like he wasn't talking to her by using the side of his mouth.

"Leave it to me," she whispered before she knocked his tea into his chest.

The hot liquid, despite the thick cloth, oozed and seeped through quickly to burn his chest. Lahar cried out, standing up quickly, trying to hold the hot and heavy fabric away from his skin to no avail.

"Oh no!" she cried falsely, trying to grip the pair in the centre of the room's attention much to the futility.

"What are you doing?" Lahar hissed, his lavender eyes flashing dangerously, his black fringe covering the frown lines that Mirajane knew were coming up.

The pair in the middle of the room, despite Doranbolt's easy breathing, any passer-by could see the way Wendy's breasts jiggled with the ragged breaths and swollen lips, finally parted.

"I'm sorry, I've used all my main ones in front of her too many times!" she whispered back before continuing the charade.

"Oh could someone come mop this up while I sort him out," she called out, her hands still running over his chest with a rag, maybe lingering more than was entirely appropriate.

So absorbed with his body, she didn't notice the pair in the middle share a grin.

"Yeah, sure, we'll do it," Doranbolt replied, dragging Wendy by the hand to where the broom closet was located, which was conveniently found in a hallway out of the eyes of the people by the bar.

Waiting only a second to hear the click of the broom closet being shut, she reluctantly left Lahar's side to peek into the hallway.

She grinned.

Everything was going according to plan.

Tip toeing up, just in case she was interrupting the love birds, she opened the door just a crack to make sure they were in.

However, she was so focussed on being quiet and trying to listen for sounds coming from _inside_ the closet that she wasn't prepared for the hands on her shoulders, shoving her into the room followed by another person.

They fell with a clatter onto the various cleaning appliances.

Her head bumped harshly into a shelf, pain flooding from the base of her skull immediately to the front in a headache. However, where she thought she was finally safe, her face was clattered by the numerous cleaning products that she had knocked over.

Mirajane moaned, her hands reaching to feel what was lying between her breasts but stopped when she felt breath sliding over her skin.

And from the smell of patchouli and green tea, her heart quickened in excitement for what was lying between her breasts.

Or more importantly, _who_ was lying between her breasts.

Gasping, Mirajane entertained the idea of pretending to be unconscious to see how react but then quickly dismissed it.

Her ego could only take so much.

"Lahar! What are you doing?!" she cried, trying to get him up before his embarrassment would become too great to ever talk to her again.

"Huh? What?" he spoke in between her cleavage and when he finally managed to pull his head out, he looked around blearily, unaware that his large hands were holding onto her breasts numbly, his bright eyes only meeting hers after inspecting everything else.

One count.

Two.

He yelped scrabbling away.

Mirajane sighed, the flush that had been working its way onto her face now coming on in full blast.

Her only saviour was the fact that it was dark enough that he wouldn't be able to notice it.

She watched, resigned, to see how he would try and escape when not even she would be able to break out her masterful trap that she foolishly created long ago.

"You know we can't get out-" she tried to save him the trouble but Lahar just glared over his shoulder at her, enough to make her cow down, glum.

"I bet this was your plan from the beginning!" he snarled and from the illumination from under the door, she could see the way his finger was pointed at her. "Looking all sexy, just buttering me up for the master so I would let you off easy-"

"Sexy?" she sat straight up, her ears perked.

Well this changed things, not that Lahar stopped his rant.

"-But what you didn't know was how incorruptible I am, so the jokes on you! So all the spilling tea on me and all the smiles, weren't a quick way on getting me naked and don't just think that if you strip I'll fall to my knees before you, unlike most of the men of this nation-"

Mirajane wasn't even listening anymore, knowing from the experience of this trap on what happens when one of the party panics. Her eyes were half lidded as she crawled over, knowing now that she had more sway with her sex appeal than he let her believe.

She tucked a wayward white strand from her face while Lahar scrabbled himself further backwards, pressing himself right against the door with a thump, his eyes panicked as they darted everywhere, looking for some kind of escape, knowing that there wouldn't be any.

"-So stop using those pretty blue eyes on me. Now. Right now. I mean-I don't-you-" his ramblings had slowed as her pouty mouth came closer, but Mirajane could barely revel in her victory before her tongue was dampening her lower lip with a languorous tongue.

She knew that the light beneath the door had illuminated her lower face and that Lahar would be able to see her intent, from the way it was falling open naturally like whenever someone kissed.

And passionately.

His hands came up to her shoulders, weakly pushing her backwards, but the eldest Strauss saw the way his head inclined towards hers as well, contradicting anything his hands were doing.

"Lahar, I think we need to tend to your burn," she murmured, one dainty hand supporting herself on his shoulder, tracing her way down to his wrist before moving back down to cup a breast.

There was a sharp intake of breath as she let her hand wander to the clip of his cloak.

_Click_.

It was ominous, but the flump of the fabric against the floor didn't stop there as their faces came so close that their noses bumped together.

Mirajane noticed that all his protests had dwindled and the hand that was once frozen on her breast began to move.

Not away. God, not _away_.

She hummed happily as she felt the bare hand moving under her dress's low cut neckline to caress her hardened nub with an absent minded thumb.

Her blood was thrumming under her skin, feeling like it was drawn to Lahar as the sea was to the moon.

Her lips were in a similar state of being as her quickened breaths brushed his face before her mouth sealed over the top of his.

Lahar froze for a moment before he crushed their skin back.

Elation flooded through her before it was slowly replaced with a power of desire that rivalled that of the Eclipse project, his needy gasp for air just fuelling the hand that was worming its way under his shirt before shoving it up roughly.

Separating just so he could get his head out of the neck of his shirt, Mirajane closed first her mouth over his lower lip before licking her way into his waiting mouth.

The hint of spice had her purring her appreciation as she pushed against the one hand on her shoulder still, reminding him how good they were feeling.

"Mi-miss Strauss," he groaned out but gave up as the harden nipple in his palm reminded him that he was loving this.

However, no matter how good her tongue was playing him, his morals were coming out.

And the simple fact that they were enemies and he was still in uniform, meant that this couldn't happen.

Ripping his face away the white haired woman took advantage by licking her way down his neck, panting heavily, signalling her arousal and the traitorous male pride swelled at the thought that he was at fault just from his kiss and a clever hand.

But of course he snapped himself out of it and with his hips jerking, he fought to regain his iron will where he was staring at the dark ceiling, finding it within his reluctant self to stop this.

"Miss Strauss, I must frankly ask that you-ohhhh," he cut himself off, shuddering as a tongue licked around his nipple before enclosing it with a hot mouth.

The constant stimulation had him gripping her hair, letting the softness curling in the gaps between his fingers, her tongue massaging the hypersensitive skin.

"You're so cute if you think that we are stopping only here," her sweet voice lilted up to him.

Lahar was inclined to agree.

She blew on the wet skin coolly; he sucked in a breath, his hips unintentionally jerking his hips up, unaware from when her knee came to be next to his now painful erection, just nudging it gently.

He gritted his teeth as he came into contact with that sneak appendage, which only reclaimed its place along the apex of his thighs, rubbing against him knowingly as her tongue just ran around his stomach that was made all the more sensitive from the hot tea being spilt on it earlier.

"I insist-" his words nothing more than a garble as the loud sound of his belt buckle being undone by quick, nimble fingers alerted him to the reaching under the waist band of the standard black briefs.

"No, _I_ insist," her breath only skated across his ear for a moment before it was above his heated flesh of his manhood.

"Please," he was reduced to begging, how pitiful.

But he didn't know how else to get through to this woman, this maniac, this-this-

_Demon_.

Mirajne paid no heed, her mouth sucking in only the head and his finger nails scratched across the floor, letting wood chippings to be dug up viciously.

The scorching heat released him, barely giving him time to recover as she licked and sucked her way up one side before continuing down to the other, down to the nest of hair before coming back up.

Now his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he could see the way her ethereal blue eyes glowed through the dark before they were hidden again as she closed them, bending back down, this time sucking him all the way down her throat.

Gasping, his head thumped back desperately against the door.

The tight heat was almost unbearable, like any virgin would be. It was taking all of his will power not to use his hands in her hair to take more of him in, especially when she swallowed.

This couldn't happen, this really couldn't happen, this really, really couldn't-

Mirajane did a tiny trick with her tongue and he felt his stomach tighten in the need to release and decided there was nothing to be gained by leaving there frustrated beyond belief.

Abandoning everything, his hands grabbed her bountiful hips, grinding her against him, curling his knees up so she couldn't scoot back.

Crying out in surprise, she got over her shock quickly, her head burying in his neck.

Lahar would have been lying if he said that he didn't feel his very veins sing with this siren that was just sitting on top of his lap.

His fingers that had once been so reluctant, now turned animalistic as he yanked the strings that held the corset part of the dress together, letting the loose slabs fall, exposing the bare breasts, towards the flat expanse of her stomach.

He let himself mouth a suck on her throat like the mythical beasts of old, knowing that he was betraying everything he worked so hard for but with the feel of her soft, warm hand on him and he was ready to betray his very name just for one more moment with this Pandora.

Hiking her skirt up, he let a finger rub against the slit under what felt like…cotton?

His eyebrow raised, but he never let his mouth release from her skin to ask, rather choosing to torture her as she did to him.

His tongue licked while his teeth nibbled, his lungs breathed while his arms held her tighter to his chest, their bare skin creating a glorious friction that was just added to the furious, flaming, stimulation.

Messily, Lahar sucked a hard pebble into his mouth, letting it touch his very cheeks as he took as much of the large flesh as he could.

But he knew he was doing something right from the way her hips grinded down, simultaneously pushing, needy, against the finger that was hanging around her drenched entrance and let her other breast's nipple graze his cheek, sending a hot flush all over.

Gasping, he pulled away before he was swallowed by her impressive cleavage.

Mirajane didn't give him much time to recover as her mouth demanded his tongue in her mouth again.

Or maybe that was his own brain telling him he should.

Either way, their frenzied breathing increased in tempo when the finger that was feeling through her knickers, slipped across the edge and glanced off the exposed clit.

Darting away only to gasp with delight, the eldest Strauss came back, her hands on either side of Lahar's jaw, directing him up to press their swollen lips together, despite the soreness.

Pulling away only long enough to wriggle her way out of her knickers, she plopped herself back down into his lap, his erection bouncing off her thigh.

Using both hands to hitch the skirt high on her waist, she relied on Lahar to guide himself in.

But after only feeling the head only _just_ touching her wet mouth, she just waited until the rest of him came but when it didn't she glanced down at him curiously.

He seemed torn but she wasn't just going to let him ignore what their attraction to the other inspired.

Swivelling her hips, she could imagine from the lewd sounds of their sexes rubbing together, Lahar's erection getting covered in her desire, glistening and stimulating his body as much as he was alighting hers into a bonfire.

Lahar growled, holding her hips still firmly while one hand delved into the heat of their sexes mixing, guiding himself firmly into her, filling her, letting her tighten, delighted.

Mirajane moaned, one hand now just holding her heavy skirt while the other tried to hold the hair away from her sweaty nape, her breasts just jiggling as he pounded into her.

Little whimpers escaped her mouth and the council soldier resented the sight of her teeth biting into her lower lip, trying to tamp down on the cute and male inspiring sounds escaping that pretty little mouth.

He licked one canine and when she gasped in surprise, he delved in, tasting her like it would be his final act.

And probably from the way this was progressing, Lahar had no intention in keeping his job after this, knowing he could never trust himself again.

However, at that point in time, he decided he shouldn't focus on things so trivial as he felt the best sex of all time testing his resolve on lasting longer than his teenage self.

Mirajane cried out, one hand abandoning its role on holding her dress up, favouring to link into the hair that was falling from his clip and yanking him to her breasts which he easily acquiesced.

"Please," she begged, her skin hot as it pressed against him, the heat more than the midday sun which seemed trapped under his skin.

"Who knew Fairy Tail could be so polite?" he mused before his tongue lightly brushed against a nipple, his hot breath decorating her sweat slicked skin.

There was an unhappy sharp tug at the roots of his hair and he cried out, scowling before he caught sight of her unhappy mouth and it softened.

"Fine, no talking about work," then he thrust upwards hard and Mirajane forgot every affront that he spoke before as her head tilted back, exposing her long column, ripe for the taking.

Her voice sang his praises as they got faster and faster, her taste, her smell, her everything just irresistible to him, threatening to take him under her spell.

He felt his vision going hazy under her tight passage and he was panting for breath, desperate to finish this, desperate to keep going.

His fingers were probably bruising her but Lahar couldn't find it in him to care especially when the eldest Strauss sighed, letting her shoulders slump biting into his shoulder as she came, her hips swivelling, trying to milk him for all he was worth as he followed with a growl.

They panted and breathed heartily, both their noses buried in the other's neck, trying not to show the weakness, but both knew, deep down, that the other could see.

Lahar cleared this throat, a hand slid under the sweaty waist band of her skirt to caress the small of her back, tracing up the bumps of her spine.

Knowing this would probably be the last time he would see such a delectable treat, he let his nose smell her behind an ear, feeling the waves of her unseen white hair bracketing his face lovingly.

And that was how he knew she was smiling.

It seemed that this woman functioned on the very essence of love and that was how she still managed to smile at him, despite being her enemy.

That was how she was able to suck him down and milk him dry, because she wanted to and didn't even acknowledge the problem that he thought of.

Such thinking could be naivety but for a cynical thinker such as himself, he could imagine for only a second, having Miss Mirajane Strauss in his home, a few children running around before reality kicked in.

The splinters from the wooden floor on his chest, the slick sweat that once felt so good now felt cold and disgusting.

The euphoria of his orgasm slowly made way for the shame in which he acted, (in uniform no less) but the feeling of her breasts rubbing tantalisingly against his own reminded him of why he was resisting her in the first place.

She was a woman loved and adored by many, she knew how to wrap them all around her finger should she choose.

And that was exactly just what she did to him.

…o0o…

Mirajane sighed, her hands absent minded, serving drinks as per usual but she couldn't help but glance at the clock.

She was never one to complain about work but after the episode three months ago, most of the time, she just wanted to go home and eat a tub of ice cream, maybe drown her sorrows with her favourite strawberry bourbon.

And if she got particularly desperate, spray the perfume bottle filled with patchouli onto a t-shirt and pretend it was his.

Sighing once again, she continued to smile for the people at the bar.

It was easy lying to all of them. One because it was so unbelievable that a man like _that_ would have such a sex drive and two, that Mirajane would be so foolhardy to have sex with an almost random stranger.

In fact, she frowned, she was sure no one thought her capable of having sex.

They pretended they could have sex with her, but not really imagined her having a relationship.

And in a way, that was true; she was the mother figure and after Lisanna 'died' she promised that she would look after everyone else. Previously, she had no time to have such relationships.

So when for the first time she had the urge and she wanted it filled, it blew predictably up in her face.

Yanked out of her musings by the chiming of two o'clock in the morning, Mirajane began the exhausting task of moving all the drunkards out of the guildhall and locking up.

It was dark and chilly on the way home, the air of autumn was leaving, giving the feeling of the winter soon approaching.

Luckily, she didn't live too far away, yet it was hidden enough that other than her siblings, Laxus and Erza, no one knew where she lived, giving her the feeling of utmost privacy.

Darting up the narrow stairs of her house, her hand was already rummaging in her bag for her keys, she didn't bother looking at the top because she knew her place was almost unnoticeable to everyone but her select few.

But colour her surprised when a pair of hands stopped her from running into them while she was looking down.

Not even glancing up at the face, she used her innate combat skills and had the person beneath her with his arm high on his back before he could do more.

However, it was only then that the scent of patchouli hit her, the midnight coloured hair that was held with black chopsticks rather than the customary Rune Knights clip she recognised who it was.

"Lahar?" Mirajane asked, shocked, releasing his arm.

Turning around, any doubts she had were gone as soon as the lavender eyes caught her in his spell.

She swallowed, her eyes darting down as all the hurt from their parting three months ago, swallowed her heart.

"I'm sorry to be coming at such a time," he replied, his serious eyes just taking her in like last time. "But I have a subject of importance to discuss with you."

Nodding, Mirajane smiled, faking it for him like she had with everyone else in the guild.

"I can get you a cup of green tea too if you would like," she offered, unlocking her front door, leaving her shoes at the door and hung up her coat on one of the available hooks.

Glancing back at him, she couldn't stop her eyebrows raising in surprise at his attire.

He was in a simple black shirt and trousers with a brown leather jacket covering him.

Where in Fiore was his uniform?

Then her mind started going a mile a minute. Did he get mugged?

No, he had a satchel hanging over his shoulder; they would have taken that.

She bit his lip. Maybe he had gotten fired? She giggled quietly to herself for the first time in three months.

No, that idea was frankly ludicrous. Lahar? The best Rune Knight there was, fired?

She shook her head. There had to be a reasonable explanation.

"I've only got non caffeinated, if that is okay?" she didn't bother turning to face him, just relying on her tip toes to reach that annoying top shelf, even using pitiful little jumps to try and achieve it.

What she didn't expect was a hot body behind her, leaning into the cradle of her bottom, a chest connected all along her back before the black shirt reached up to the box and pulled it down with ease.

Swallowing down the tightness in her throat, she spared a weak smile before grabbing some cups, her heart racing all the while.

She just had to hope he wasn't looking at her neck for her pulse because it was thrumming against her skin, alerting to all involved that she cared a lot more than she was giving off.

"Mirajane," he started behind her again.

Her heart skipped. He said her first name. Not 'Miss Mirajane' or anything like that, no.

Just a simple Mirajane.

Her breathing hitched and again she prayed that he wasn't listening to the tiny hints that she wasn't as okay as she let on.

"Um, how have you been?" the white haired woman stuttered out, her hands shaking as she filled the kettle and put it on the stove to heat.

There was no answer, but she refused to turn around just in case it was one of his tactics to gauge her reaction.

A shifting of cloth sounded behind her and then a pair of arms bracketed her against the counter.

"Truthfully, I have been better," Lahar murmured in her ear, sending delightful chills down her spine.

She hummed, knowing if she actually said any words her voice would break in the middle and she would be damned if she would show any weakness.

"I had a woman in my arms, very pretty, you might know her by the name of Miss Strauss," he continued, his hands creeping slowly closer to her and she couldn't find it within herself to stop it. "And after we had become," he coughed, "intimate, I made an error in which I found may have messed up my chances with her. However," his mouth pressed against the shell of her ear and this time, the hidden shivers now racked up her body obviously, ruining any chance she had at trying to play it cool.

"I found that no matter how much I threw myself into my work, I couldn't forget her," Mirajane tried to hide her smile by letting her hair cover her red face but she knew someone as intelligent as Lahar, it would take more. "Then, when it came to having to arrest some of Fairy Tail, I couldn't do it, so handed in my resignation, but now-"

His voice lowered further as his hands which hadn't previously touched her, now cupped her hips, drawing her inevitably closer and she was powerless to stop him.

Hating to even stop him on his train of thought as her breath quickened hopefully.

"-I have nowhere to go except to this woman, this woman that may be too hurt to even consider having me back."

Pivoting around, her shrewd eyes took in the honest, stern face, evaluating everything despite her heart already knowing what she was going to choose.

"I-" her lips shaped his name and found that they couldn't move anymore because of the responsive lips that were overtaking her.

Swallowing her.

Moaning, her arms wrapped around his neck, revelling in the feel of warm, sure hands on her back through the thin fabric.

His hips pushed her sharply against the edge of the counter, one hand reached up and cupped her face, a worn thumb just tracing all that he never had back in their time in the broom closet.

"Take me back," he whispered as his soft mouth stroked her neck lovingly, the hand that was on her cheek, smoothing up the column of her throat, angling her head back so he had more access to touch the long expanse.

"I-yes," Mirajane moaned out, her eyes beginning to blur as happy tears curled out of the corners but also from the way in which his skilful hands were inspiring her arousal which more often than not blurred her vision.

"Yes?" his lavender eyes were smoky as he just gazed upon her form.

Ducking her head under his chin, she wrapped her arms securely around his waist, letting him know silently she wasn't letting go again.

"Yes," she breathed, her nose just smelling the patchouli, letting him guide her into her living room where they soon forgot about the kettle squealing on the stove.

_finis_


	2. Chapter 2

**A Soldier, A Doctor And A Moment**

Doranbolt gasped as he finally released the blue haired girl's hand, instead using it to support himself on the wall beside him.

"I-I think…we lost…them," he managed to garble out, his heart pounding from the adrenaline of the run from the guild further into the labyrinth of the city of Magnolia.

Looking to the side he saw Wendy supporting herself on her knees, her shoulders heaving from the desperate pants coming through into her abused lungs.

She spared a look up to him, giving a crooked, innocent grin that had a little of his heart burn increasing just thinking that it was likely to be another year where he would remove her memory of seeing him, therefore another year before he would be able to see the toothy grin.

He sighed, allowing himself to straighten but found a leaking substance come from his arm along with a strange pain.

Confused he glanced down to his right where through his crisp white shirt, blood was seeping into the fabric.

Doranbolt frowned, picking the fabric away but gave up as there was a knife of heat that seared across his flesh. When could this have happened?

Looking back, he remembered him and Wendy sprinting out of the guild after they had locked their friends in the cupboard, neither willing to suffer under the wrath of their equally powerful comrades.

He also remembered a particularly sharp wall with jagged stones and spiking wood coming from the corner of the home as they dashed around it.

He spared a smirk before he looked over to his partner in crime, a slight flush coming under the skin of his face.

Wendy, oblivious to his inspection, finally straightened only to put her hands behind her head as she stared at the starry night, her cute, soft, delectable lips parted as she continued to suck in the oxygen in needy pants.

Tapping his own chapped lips, against his will he couldn't help but remember the taste of her, the feel of her supple tiny body under his hands back in the guild.

Leaning his shoulders against the grimy wall behind him, he propped a leg against the wall as he took in the change from the year before.

The year before, she still had the twin ponytails where the hair bounced off her hips from time to time. Now, she had sheared almost all of it off so that the hair followed the sharp line of her jaw down her face where she had a block fringe covering her forehead.

Instead of the outdated dress that she had been wearing for years since she was twelve, she wore a pair of azure and white striped, thigh high socks under some (what some people might say indecently), tight, white shorts. The shorts themselves had an unusual number of bulky pockets that had a pair of black braces following up her torso, holding the shorts to her tiny frame.

Following the path of the elastic, Doranbolt tried to subtly inspect her chest, in a non-lecherous way, of course.

Her chest size still was that of the minimal and had a simple blue blouse with capped shoulders and seemed one button undone so he could see the hint of cleavage that her only slightly increased bust made.

He swallowed thickly as he felt a dryness creep in as his mind traitorously remembered back to when (for the plan only, obviously), he had pressed her against him, feeling the slight, soft skin beneath the suspender elastic over the small of her back, beneath the blouse.

Her quiet gasp still against his lips as his mouth demanded her attention as his other knotted itself easily into her short, blue strands. His very blood had felt like it was straining towards her…

Shaking his head violently, he closed his own eyes, deciding that he would wait to see what the younger woman would suggest.

In the times before this encounter, she always managed to get him to wander the town together, no matter the time that he would be interrupting her.

"Mest you're bleeding!" he heard her exclaim before he felt the coolness of a hand gripping his wrist.

Doranbolt didn't even bother to correct her of his real name; there was no point if she was only going to forget his presence by the end of the night.

There was an easy answer to this problem, by erasing his entire existence from her brain, but there was a selfish part of him that just knew that he liked the belief in his 'wholesome' goodness.

"It is just a scratch," he murmured tiredly, trying to pull his arm out of her grip half-heartedly but even she knew that he wasn't truly trying.

He felt her rolling up the shirt, probably spreading the blood further.

_Well there goes that shirt_.

"Mest," her voice seemed scolding, "you're going to need stitches."

He barely shrugged before he felt a small arm wrap around his waist while pulling his uninjured arm over her shoulder.

"I'm fine, I don't need-" he tried to protest but when he opened his eyes he saw the way that Wendy's had narrowed dangerously.

Through all the past days that he spent with her, from when he saw her at the Grand Magic Games, he knew that she wasn't going to budge and it would just be easier to indulge her rather than fight her.

Doranbolt sighed.

"Well since we're going, I should probably tell you now that I don't need your help in walking to the hospital," he easily tugged his arm out of her hand hold, although for the life of him, he didn't know why he kept an arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Or why Wendy let him.

However, the slight giddy headiness was probably to blame, especially as the walls began to spin slightly.

"How did you know that my place is by the hospital?" Wendy asked, her head snapping up to look at him in surprise.

Confused, Doranbolt narrowed his eyes, looking down at her.

"You live by the hospital?"

He barely managed to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking when she moved out of Fairy Hills.

Even in the dimming light, he saw the way her cheeks flooded with blood, the way her fingers started playing nervously with each other in embarrassment, her feet scuffing the cobbles as they walked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm a trainee nurse in basic medicine but a head doctor with magical medicine," she smiled apologetically up at him, "that's why I'm not healing you now; I have three major surgeries to perform tomorrow and that's not even including in the ER shift."

Doranbolt raised an eyebrow where Wendy continued to fiddle with anything and everything.

"So you moved nearer to the hospital because you wanted to be nearer in case they needed you for an emergency?" he asked as they continued to walk along the cobbled streets.

He felt by his shoulder Wendy's head bob in affirmation.

"Yeah, I think you get a bit sick of running from one side of the city to the other in just your pyjamas, then get lectured by Carla at the end of a long night," he glanced down at her and see just in time for her eyes to move guiltily away.

"That does put a damper on things," he agreed with a consoling smile.

They were silent again.

Doranbolt shook his head in a measly attempt to remove the swirling colours that were darting in and out of his vision to no avail.

Then a thought occurred to him.

"Doesn't your work in the hospital mean that you get less time for the Guild?" Doranbolt asked as they came out of an alley onto a busy street that, despite the late hour didn't seem to show any sign of slowing down.

But at the far end of the street he saw the flashing red lights to signal the magical ambulances.

"Not really," Wendy now startled at his voice and jumped away, making his arm fall off her shoulders, her fingers trying to twirl multiple strands around her fingers. "My new flat is a lot cheaper and the reason I haven't really developed from basic nurse yet is because I'm rarely there often enough to take the examinations so I still get intern pay."

They both dodged around a cart that was rushing past them at a speed that was slightly too dangerous.

In the end, after dodging various vehicles and panicked people, they both gave up trying to walk next to each other in favour of going single file where Wendy was in front of him.

It wasn't exactly an unpleasant experience he grudgingly admitted to himself.

For every time someone would push the timid woman back, it would mean that his hips would be cradling her soft derriere, giving him a tease of a rub before she would find the courage to push away, each time apologising as she did it.

Barely holding back a smile, when he saw he was beginning to day dream, his hands automatically locked around her waist, hoisting her up quickly when she was about to walk into the path of a wayward cart.

He didn't have the time to enjoy the feel of the spongy feel of her breasts on his forearms before he was sliding her down his body again, settling her small feet back on the safety of the ground.

Swallowing, he tried to maintain both an emotional and a physical distance by backing away but was shoved forward hard and with this increasing feel of light-headedness, he wasn't exactly the most balanced so collided against Wendy.

She stumbled but managed to maintain her footing.

A protest already on her lips, when Wendy turned around she saw the paleness of his face, the slight sweat that beaded on his brow, his scar that dominated most of his face made it more obvious by the darkness.

"Mest!" she cried, quickly propping his body on her shoulder.

He groaned and unlike earlier, he let her shoulder most of his weight which almost made her knees buckle, even with her slight Dragon Slayer strength.

"It's okay," she tried to reassure him as she readjusted his weight uneasily, seeing her bright pink wooden door was made eerie under the blaring lantern light of the hospital next door. "We're nearly there, just a little longer."

Mest leaned further onto her shoulder, his breathing laboured in her ear and despite his condition Wendy couldn't help but be reminded of his proximity especially when he had pulled her closer for their kiss, the way his fingers had tightened in their grip around her hair…

She cleared her throat as she quickly tried to fumble for her keys in one of the numerous pockets in her shorts.

"W-wendy," he mumbled and tried to support himself on the nearby wall, a hand gripping where the blood had begun to leak more.

"Shhh, shhh," she desperately looped an arm over her shoulder again as they stumbled through the doorway, ignoring the stairs that led to the other ER doctors flats, instead choosing to try and rush to the peeling blue pine wood that had her name typed into cheap metal and slid into its holder.

Grunting, she hurried to try and find the second key, which for the life of her didn't know why she kept it in a different pocket.

Squealing in delight when she found the archaic key and clicked it into the lock shoving the oiled hinges open, spotting the couch was directly opposite the door.

Relief flood through her and she hobbled to the patchy fabric couch and laid Mest down before hurrying to the door to close it had it not been for a person that she hadn't realised was loitering outside her door.

"You need any help Wens?" Romeo stood there, his eyes wide.

While it was not uncommon for him to come around when he wanted to catch up with her, he still wasn't used to the sight of bloody patients coming in and out of her home.

Shooting him a smile, she continued to struggle with Mest's legs and worm them onto the couch comfortably.

Romeo gave a slight chuckle before he moved over to take the heavy appendages from her and with first try, he settled them with no extra hassle.

Wasting no time, Wendy quickly went to one of her numerous cupboards for such an occasion.

Rushing back to the scarred man's side, she clicked open the box where the stitching and anaesthetic were nestled in a bed of bandages.

Flicking the lid off the needle, her brown eyes scrutinised for previous use and for bubbles, they then darted down to the prone body on her sofa and while she didn't notice the way her eyes softened, she did feel her heart do a little gymnastic routine in her chest.

While her training as a normal nurse was sporadic at best, her year with Porlyusica meant that she couldn't afford to say that it was lack of lessons, and revise for every lesson before and after just in case that it would be the last one, meaning that she was probably more skilled than the examinations would suggest.

Finding the vein easily, she applied the pain killers easily after swabbing it with alcohol.

Using the bright blue liquid of disinfectant, Wendy began the stage of cleaning as much blood as she could before threading the needle easily and stitching back with a steady hand, although she did have to pause every now and then to pick out the splinters.

Her mind wandered back to their dash out of the guild, hands held tightly.

Unfortunately with age, she hadn't grown out of the innate clumsiness of her youth much to Carla's irritation, so the blunette noticed the very bloody heels of her hands and the swollen pain of her knees where she had stumbled and landed on them.

She just had to point out how lucky it wasn't her face.

Sometimes she had to envy her best friend Chelia who could just heal herself, she thought absently as a finger traced along the scar that cut through one of her eyebrows that was luckily hidden under her fringe.

Finishing on his arm, Wendy almost felt guilty that she wasn't doing more such as using her magic but she knew the importance of her magic in the hospital next door.

There was the pleasant old lady who would just need her last healing session to finally get rid of this tumour that seemed to be a black cloud on her only relative, a seven year old boy.

She beamed to herself as she thought of the cute boy and how radiant his smile would be once she finished up on her.

The box to her first aid kit clicked shut before it was settled back into his cubby above her kitchen sink and the tap was turned on to attend to her hands.

Flinching slightly, Wendy couldn't help but examine her cheap flat, wondering what Mest would think when he came to.

It was a long rectangle for a room where everything was shoved together. To her right led to her flower garden which was followed by the kitchen.

To her left was the middle of the room where the couch and informal living room was before after that was the rough mattress, surrounded by the hanging silks that Wendy had tried to use to disguise the bareness and worn down air, was on the floor.

Then off to the side was a paper screen with a tub behind it was connected to a dodgy boiler that gave out lukewarm water out at best, ice cold at worst.

Then the communal bathroom was in the hallway outside her flat used for all the doctors.

Not to mention the noise, she thought wryly. The constant rushing of the hospital, the screams of the passers-by and the drunks. Oh Earthland, the drunks.

Wendy hadn't exactly hit jackpot but it was the best she could do for everyone involved.

And it was now a home to her.

Seeing her various knickers and bras on the floor she squealed, rushing to shove them under the mattress or into random draws, as if Mest would suddenly awaken.

"He won't care," an amused voice said to the side.

Jumping, the various colourful lace flew into the air and one comically got caught on the bare bulb above Wendy's head.

Romeo continued to slouch against the wall, his top still exposing his six pack by the fact that it was constantly undone, his crooked grin on his face.

Realising what he said, Wendy tucked her hair nervously behind her ears, looking anywhere but at him.

"W-who won't care?" she laughed nervously as her face continued to increase in temperature, a bright blush illuminating the darkest corner.

Her best friend's smirk didn't lessen in fact it multiplied, but instead of responding he bounced himself off the wall, strolling to the door.

It was only when she finally thought she was safe, when he touched the door knob, that Romeo pounced.

"I think if you wear the red number like you did with me, I'm sure that it would just make him feel randy enough!"

Wendy shrieked, not even caring about her patient that was lying on her couch and tore off her shoe in which to swing at the arrogant man at her door who slammed it with raucous laugh.

Her heart thudding in her chest she looked to the couch nervously, seeing if Mest had awakened.

Seeing his lolled head, she couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

Moving the back of her hand to her face, she tried to numb the fire that had flooded under her skin.

"I didn't realise you two were an item," a soft, rough whiskey voice said teasingly from her couch.

Jumping once again, her hand automatically went to rip off her other shoe and threw it at the body.

A lightening quick hand, caught it sparingly before it had whacked into the back of his head.

Propping himself up, Mest turned his face back to see hers and Wendy tried to tamp down on her crush which seemed to just render her speechless.

"Is this how you treat all your patients, or am I just special?" he swung his legs over but winced when he moved his arm.

"Careful, don't move too much!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him, grabbing the hand that was going to begin picking at the skin coloured sutures. "And don't pick them!"

He paused and looked at the brown eyes that were so earnest and innocent, revelling in the feel of soft skin that was enclosed over his own rough and abused one.

"You worry too much," he bopped against the furrow that was forming between her brows. "You'll be as old as me if you continue that."

Despite the joint cells that were touching the young woman's hand were begging him to not let go, he still wormed his fingers out.

"You're not old!" she blurted before she pulled back embarrassed.

Mest, however, didn't seem to care as he just laughed, throwing his head back.

"Compared to your youth, I feel like such an old man," he chuckled, one of his hands going to scratch the back of his head.

"You're not old," Wendy repeated stubbornly, staring at the floor as she brought one of her bruised and bloody hands to her face.

"What happened to your hands?" he asked sharply, coming back up from his reclined position, grabbing a wrist to inspect the gashes and scrapes.

Wendy was lost for words for a moment, just staring at his concerned face, his turquoise eyes that were focussed wholly on her hands and there her heart did another flip.

She swallowed.

"I'm still such a klutz," she tittered nervously, the other one coming to pull on a strand of her hair.

Spotting the nervous motion, it also meant that he could also see the way her other hand was equally ravaged with cuts and gravel and dirt.

Mest clucked his tongue, rolling his eyes, he placed her hand in her lap where his eyes got caught on the holes in her knees where her knees were still leaking blood into the white stripe of her socks.

"Where's your disinfectant?" he ordered, his eyes hardened into ice, just daring her to argue with him.

Sighing, she rubbed her eyes with her tired fingers.

"The bottle of blue liquid in the cubby above the sink and the box has the bandages," she said resigned, leaning further back into her lumpy couch.

Closing her eyes, she hadn't realised she had gone into a slight doze until she felt warm, roughened hands touch her inner thigh.

Jerking, her eyes wide she saw the way Mest apologetically smiled as his fingers continued to roll under the elastic of the top of the sock before beginning to pull it away from her skin, slowly.

Sucking in a breath, Wendy could feel her eyes dilate to the most epic of proportions as her tongue came to play on her pointed canines as she felt the scarred knuckles continue to drag against her skin as Mest peeled away the sock.

She shivered especially when their eyes met, but he glanced away too quickly for her to gauge the mood.

Wendy took in a shaky breath, pointing her toes to make it easier to remove the sock all the way off her leg and this time steeling herself against the large hand that cupped her heel, trying to not react against his touch.

"You're feet are so tiny!" he exclaimed in disbelief and she looked down to see Mest's grin as looked upon her little toes, lined up one by one.

She tried pulling away but hissed as the movement creaked at her knee joint where she could see was swollen with tissue fluid, the blood now clotted into a red and brown mess.

"Careful," he warned, readying the alcohol, one hand clamping on her thigh.

Wendy tensed.

Not to prepare herself against the inevitable sting of the cleaner but because his touch alighted a spark low down in her belly that was hard to tamp down on.

Biting on her quivering lip, she nearly drew blood as Mest gently dabbed the swab over the various cuts.

"So," Mest seemed to mutter out that even the Dragon Slayer had to lean forward to hear, "are you and that boy going out?"

"Hmm?" she frowned, a finger going to her lip in thought, "oh, you mean Romeo? Oh."

She laughed nervously, deciding to avoid the question just by twirling her hair and looking everywhere but at him.

Her legs clenched unintentionally as a swipe of fiery pain overwhelmed her knee cap. She hissed.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mest's forehead creased in concentration, refusing to look up into her eyes.

"Maybe I should just take a bath?" she offered, pushing past the man who was knelt between her legs but found that she was pushed back gently by two hands on her shoulders.

Her back was cushioned by the sofa but her eyes were wide as she took in the stubborn line of his mouth, his pointy chin and his long flopping hair that flipped over those blue, blue eyes.

Against her will, her pale and bloody hand came to push some of the unruly fringe out of his face.

"You grew it out," she whispered softly as her hands touched the rich black silk, feeling as it feathered in her hands, falling out from behind his ear as soon as it was placed.

Something indescribable passed through his eyes when she had said it and even she couldn't feel like she was untouched by the words either; she had a very odd sensation of…déjà vu.

"Mest…?" her mouth formed his name but suddenly she couldn't find it within herself to care as she saw him beginning to lean in close.

Her mind flashed back to the guild where his hand was at the base of her spine, his hand was tangled in the shortness of her hair and she couldn't help but tilt towards him too.

Being drawn inexorably, her lips pursed unconsciously as she watched blearily as his head tilted, his own eyes becoming half lidded.

"Mest," she sighed as she let herself close her eyes finally.

…But she felt nothing.

Slitting one, she saw that Mest's cheeks were flushed while his back was erect and his face was turned from her.

Again, she felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu and it was only when he brought a hand up to scrub the back of his head that it occurred to her:

He had been erasing all her memories of past encounters.

As she thought that, many memories scrolled through her vision like a freight train and she could barely hold back her gasp as she replayed last year's encounter, where he saw her outside the hospital when she just began to work there.

He had a crooked, embarrassed grin that had only increased as soon as she had thrown her arms wildly around him, exclaiming a greeting. He then reminded her in the five years where he had visited her once or twice a year, (after erasing her memory of course) to call him…

"Doranbolt," her voice hushed out, her hand already creeping up to bring him back to her.

Her mouth fell open as she replayed all the times he would raise a hand despite her protests and there was all that occurred to her, was a grey and blue disk of magic that overwhelmed her vision, brightening it before a grey landscape came.

Doranbolt himself just was in the same state of shock but a little bit of horror was coming through his expression too as he seemed to gravitate to her knowing he was but, again unable to stop it.

"Doranbolt," she repeated, her eyes closing as she let herself lean closer and closer, not feeling the scarred cheek bone under her thumb feeling like it was moving away.

Just before their lips met, whatever tension was tightening the skin under her hand finally relaxed as she felt hands tangle into her own hair before a breath was rasping over her pouty lips.

"Wendy."

Then everything went up in flames.

Her skin, her flesh, her heart, it was all burning. Her thoughts turned to smoke as their lips travelled and navigated, tongues scorching as a summer heat wave.

It was a deadly dance on whether she would know what breath was again until Doranbolt pulled away, his blue eyes dazed.

Wendy couldn't help the fire that was skating a wake down to her core where it alighted like lighter fluid, meaning when her hands clasped in the fine black hair, she set everything alight again as her hands tightened decisively yanking him back to crush their lips together.

He was still kneeling between her legs and had to support himself by pressing their chests together as if to make a seam. His elbows crushed her breasts together and his palms dwarfed her face, the curling digits refusing any other space for movement.

"Wendy."

Her eyes blearily opened as his nose skated across her jaw before sucking in her pale skin hotly, probably making it a burning red, matching the flames of desire that were roaring through her veins like the dragons of old.

"Doranbolt," she gasped as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, desperate to hold him to her.

"Mest, call me Mest," he muttered as his teeth absently punished her ear lobe.

Where she thought her pain threshold was low, the slight pain spiked her inner temperature, making her feral.

Growling, Wendy tackled Doranbolt to the floor, careful to do it sideways so his head wouldn't hit the wooden coffee table that was in the way.

There was a gasp, a chuckle before the lewd sounds began again with pleasing murmurs and grunts.

"Mest, Mest," Wendy chanted as she felt herself being flipped over on the worn carpet, a dominant hand at her hip, another dangerously high on her waist.

"That's it, that's _it_," he seemed to mumble to himself as he grinded into her willing flesh.

Gasping and flushing her cheeks to crimson, the blunette clutched at the back of his neck desperately, the other just wandering up and down the older man's spine, trying to soothe him but also tightening their embrace enough that if someone walked in, no one could tell the difference in their writhing mess.

His teeth were driving her crazy as they constantly altered from searing to light nibbles letting Wendy's own canines cut desperately into her swollen lower lip, her nails turned to claws, digging into his skin.

Their hips clashed again and both moaned at the feeling of his hard length against the soft cavern which was protected by her shorts and knickers.

Hooking her thumbs into the shirt, Wendy tired of his roaming hands that seemed to neither gravitate towards either her breasts or crotch, jerked her hands outwards, spraying buttons all over her body.

Although for the life of her, she couldn't bring herself to care as glorious skin was exposed along with a brown nipple which her tongue was already running across her need to touch.

Her heart was thrumming in her ears so couldn't hear anything but could see the protest on his lips but as her tongue flicked the little nub, she felt the shudder under her palms so repeated the motion.

It was a poor choice as in doing so, Doranbolt grabbed her hands which were placed low on his stomach and yanked her so she was sitting upright while he straddled her hips.

Placing his fingers _for once_ on the sides of her blouse, touching her breasts in his large hands, so caught up in her happiness that she wasn't prepared for when a _riiiiippppppp_ came, tearing her own shirt.

Angry, she frowned, her lower lip pouting.

"This was a new shirt!"

However, she couldn't bring herself to care as he bit her sulking lower lip before soothing the hurt with a languorous tongue that slid into her mouth with no problem, no other mission than to most likely seduce her.

"I think we are now even," Doranbolt teased lowly as one hand was caressing one of her small globes while the other dexterous one was unbuttoning and sliding his hand down her shorts.

Gasping, she tried to arch her hips though was restrained by the body that was astride her.

Giving up, Wendy just wrapped her arms around his waist, her neck arching up mindlessly, her lips trying to seek out his to bond.

"Just shut up and kiss me already," she ordered, her mouth falling open naturally, any thought of shyness that usually dominated her nature when it came to men, evaporating under his touch.

A hand slid tantalisingly up her chest, smoothing up the column of her neck to cup a cheek before breath ghosted over her lips.

"As you wish*," he murmured with a knowing smirk as he plundered her mouth with a reckless abandon.

Moaning, she tilted her head to the side, trying to make it more accessible to his demands with little manoeuvrability.

Determined to rectify the situation, quick as Racer, Doranbolt hiked Wendy's small, lithe body up his back, hooking her ankles easily behind his back as he stumbled to the glorified mattress on the floor.

However, there were some technicalities as he got caught in the numerous hanging silks used to try and pretty the room up.

"What is with these damn things?" he asked as he unceremoniously dropped the small woman with a grunt, trying to untangle himself.

Wendy squawked as she bounced on the springs for a moment before it turned into a giggle as she watched the older man struggle with his predicament.

But the feel of the wetness pooling in her knickers, had her ankles clip the back of his knees causing him to fall hard on top of her with an 'omph!'

Wriggling further back onto the bed, she didn't care as she saw one of her precious silks fall, ripped from its hook. Right then she had bigger problems.

Shrugging out of her blouse and unhooking her bra quickly, she slid the suspenders off her shoulders and was about to shimmy out of her shorts before two hands caught her wrists on the bedspread that was bracketing her hips.

Glancing up she saw the predatory glare gleaming in Doranbolt's blue hued eyes as he hungrily took in her form.

Wendy flushed further, (if that was even at all possible) both from the embarrassment of being the only one mostly naked and of pleasure at being such a sight to send this man into a wild mess, also made obvious by the various tangles rubbing all over his head.

But being pinned down by her male, she couldn't resist teasing him shyly as she arched her torso so that the breasts' nubs brushed and caught against his own in a slow delectable slide. She faced away from him as her teeth cut into her lower lip, her awkwardness overwhelming what was once her confidence.

There was a rough touch of lips against the hollow of her throat and Wendy bent her head back into the soft whimsical buy of feather down, revelling in the momentary spark alighted just under a layer of skin.

"Wen-dy," he breathed between open mouth kisses that were casting their line down her body, barely spending the time to touch her lonely breasts.

Instead, he chose to continue down the plane of her belly, letting his tongue dip in and out of the slight lines that toned her stomach.

She gasped, her hips arching involuntarily, clicking against Doranbolt's jaw who just chuckled as his teeth managed to pull her shorts half way down her thighs before he gave up and setting his sights instead on her knickers.

She just never knew that he was such a crack shot.

Her lower lips flooded with a heat as she watched as Doranbolt's mouth got closer and closer to her.

Curling her toes, Wendy tried to tamp down on her breathing, attempting to hide her desire, her need but from the crooked, simple grin from the man had her realising the futility quickly enough.

Her toes curled as she watched his tongue run across his straight white teeth before he closed his eyes and _licked_.

Crying out, the blunette tried to swallow her next moan, but the flat of a familiar tongue had her hips soaring. So much so that her wrists were released from where they were writhing, pinned to the bedspread, in favour of clamping down on her own hips.

The feel of hot breath skated coolly across her slippery flesh and Wendy's body was as taut as bow string, just waiting for the inevitable.

Her eyes were clenched shut but still she waited, even after she felt his heat moving away from her.

One second passed. Two.

Her pants were slowing down but when she opened her eyes she saw what she never expected.

Doranbolt just watching her as he stripped out of his clothes, his rigid…

She cleared her throat looking away again, a finger coming to be settled between her rows of teeth.

What she didn't expect however, was a male hand grip that wrist before he took that finger that had previously been in her own mouth into his. Her mouth was agape as she watched his cocky grin widen while his tongue continued to swirl hotly around the digit.

Her thighs clenched as her opening pulsed.

"D-D-Mest," she gasped, clenching her eyes shut, too embarrassed to beg.

She had been with one male and that was with Romeo because of curiosity. Nothing more. A simple transaction.

However, Wendy was ignorant to how it could truly feel, how a _man_ could truly make her feel.

There was a probing hand down by her entrance but it wasn't unwelcome as her hips jerked wantonly while her throat groaned in appreciation. Not to be outdone, her own hand gripped his wrist tightly letting Doranbolt know that what he was doing was wanted.

His breath skated across her ear while one finger continued to tease around her entrance, just rubbing up and down her slit letting it clip against her clit, letting the waves of pleasure begin to ebb and wane quicker and quicker.

Her gasps became ragged as her hips began to undulate, forcing him to keep up his constant pressure.

So caught up in his tease, she wasn't prepared for when a digit entered her, followed closely by a second.

A whimper caught in her throat and they both stopped for a micro pause.

Her eyes blearily met his in the harsh light of her room, blue met brown, ice against earth.

Then Doranbolt pistoned his fingers so they were pumping at a speed that Wendy couldn't help but be caught up in, letting her stomach tighten with the delicious feelings, especially with anticipation as she felt hot breath moving back down her body.

Her hips arched knowingly and accepted the tongue that began to slick its way into her.

The lewd sounds had her flushing and her mouth tightening, trying to hold in her cries but even as he lapped at her, sucking her all in, she couldn't bring herself to deny him.

Wrenching herself out of his hold, she tackled him backwards so they were both barely staying on the bed as she straddled him, their bare sexes barely meeting.

So close were they that their breaths fought for dominance in the small space but neither gained nor lost ground as their hosts continued to writhe together in a dry grind, the only wetness was at the apex of their thighs.

There was a hesitant smile before the blunette pivoted on the scarred man's hips so her back was facing him, letting him be swallowed by her inner heat.

Gasping, he unintentionally gripped her hips to pull her up and shove her down again.

Wendy cried out, her hands reaching to grip the back of her hair.

She had to face away from him otherwise she would get too shy to even continue.

And she knew, she would be lucky if she would remember this night as she had a feeling that this changed nothing of Doranbolt's character. He would still erase her memories of this.

Grinding back down with a slight tear in one eye, sadness was only part of the reason why her eyes were blurring.

But as she felt the slightly hairy back greet her smooth downy one, a supportive hand on her belly reminded her why she needed to revel in her happiness while she had it.

So turning her head to the side, she presented her lips in need of a kiss or two, to make her forget, to annihilate any belief that she knew to be true about what would happen come morning.

"K-Kiss me," she stuttered out as she could barely talk with him shoving himself inside her, seemingly deeper and deeper.

"As you wish," his lips were dry and they were rough just like the last bit of their coupling but Wendy couldn't bring herself to mind as while of timid nature, the Dragon Slayer inside of her just threatened under her skin, demanding more danger than she offered.

Or at least more adrenaline.

Doranbolt's grunts were soft in her ear as the air continued to grate against the sensitive shell of her ear, but her lower lips were beginning to twitch as she felt her impending orgasm.

If that was not so much of an indicator, the fact that her little toes felt like they were pulsing uncontrollably was another reason that she tugged harshly on the older man's hair so that he would be closer to her neck, trying to silently tell him what she wanted from him.

And his teeth obliged her, biting into her neck, along with one more powerful thrust that had her crying out in broken chords.

The sense of burning didn't even affect her as her thighs continued to work to bring her male to his own sense of climax.

Wendy felt it as soon as his fingers tightened into bruises on her hips and especially the low groan which coupled with the thanking lick that lined up her throat.

So tired was she that, she barely had felt her chest stop panting before she slid off Doranbolt's length and was asleep on her bed.

…o0o…

Doranbolt came to reality in a hazy mess that was difficult to distinguish as he saw a sight that he was not familiar with.

There was a range of colours from bright blue, to crimson and pink hanging from the ceiling bracketing the mattress on which he was sleeping.

This didn't look like the inn he had booked into.

As he blearily looked upwards he saw faint light coming through the window.

Sitting up, he glanced out and saw the street was busily moving and Doranbolt was almost fooled into thinking that it was midday had the sky not been still dark with the sun only peeking up slightly.

There was a moan to the side of him that tore him from his thoughts and saw a bare body that had all his body freezing.

Wendy lay with her back facing him, but the covers only covered over her hips with her tiny feet peeking out at the end.

A wave of heat flushed over him as that night's excursion came flooding back, with her writhing, curvaceous body falling apart in his arms. A blush decorated his cheeks as he watched his hand traitorously come to comb back her short blue hair away from her eyes as he spied on her.

She truly had grown up. She hadn't exactly been daunted by the sight of him, but she had adorably turned her eyes away as her canines bit on her lip.

Looking down at his own state of undress, reality came back like a tonne of bricks: he couldn't stay there.

Raising his hand to Wendy's temple, Doranbolt still hesitated to remove her memories.

He didn't want this to end like this, but what other choice did he have?

She was way too young for him. He was eleven years older than her, eighteen if you counted the seven year time skip. He was thirty six for Eclipse's sake and she had only just come into adulthood.

His face fell into his hands.

What a mess he had made of things.

But then again, he raised his face tentatively out to stare and document everything about her body, noticing the love bite displayed darkly on her milky skin.

Against his will he watched as his index finger traced around the curve and came to flutter among her hair.

What would even Lahar think of this?

His eyes widened as he stumbled in his haste to get out of the bed.

Dammit, they had left them locked in the broom closet!

And if that wasn't bad enough, even if they _had_ managed to escape, Lahar was probably tearing apart the town to try and find him!

Finally spying his boots, he shoved them in hastily, glancing at Wendy's prone body constantly.

He could erase her memory then and she would be none the wiser but again as he hand was held up to do the deed, he paused.

Would it be so bad…?

Shaking his head, he quickly teleported out of the room before he could change his mind.

But when he opened his eyes, there in front of him was Lahar's love bitten neck and Doranbolt couldn't help but grin.

So he wasn't the only one that had gotten laid last night.

…o0o…

Wendy continued to sweep the pavement slabs outside her front door, the leaves continuing to blow across her vision.

The autumn was always so pretty but she had to admit she couldn't wait for the winter to brush over to make way for the spring; she always loved the pretty flowers.

Unknowing to the blunette, she hadn't realised she had been sighing for the better part of the hour until Carla, her ever present guardian snapped.

"Honestly child, I don't know what has gotten you so mopey," she sniffed, her cute pink nose sticking in the air, "you have been this way ever since I started going out with Lily and Happy on the Friday nights."

Wendy sighed again, trying to tuck her short hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," she looked glumly down at her boots which were laced up against the bitter cold wind that didn't feel like autumn at all.

Carla mimicked her and sighed too until she spotted a figure out of the corner of her eye.

"Child, isn't that the brute who pretended to be in Fairy Tail back on Tenrou Island?" she asked haughtily, her arms folded.

So indignant was she that she didn't notice when her charge's eyes widened hopefully.

However, she did notice when Wendy dropped the broom with a clatter, the shaft barely missing Carla's tail.

"Wendy!" she cried but was interrupted as she saw the short blue blur, rush past her vision, heading straight to the brute that she had pointed out.

Wendy couldn't believe it! Her skin was heating up from a mixture of emotions and couldn't believe he was there.

And sure enough there he was, loitering in the alley way, a tentative smile on his face while a hand came up to rub the back of his head awkwardly.

No thoughts running to her hand, Wendy was just as surprised as she felt a burn in her wrist and palm as it _smacked_ against the side of his face.

Doranbolt's face remained away from her, so she couldn't gauge his reaction, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry as she had gotten it all out in one hit.

But she still felt like she needed to justify it.

"That was for leaving me without a word," she stated.

Her toes however were still moving as they pushed her to her tip toes as one hand came up to caress the scarred skin, to bring him back to face her.

"But this is for coming back," she murmured against his lips as she let herself be swept up into his storm.

They both grinned before closing their eyes resolutely.

And she kissed him. Hard.

Or maybe he did.

It was too hard to tell.

_Finis pour tout le monde_

*For those who know The Princess Bride.


End file.
